Late Night Moments
by wearwind
Summary: One shot, F!Hawke, no bonds with Mel's Trilogy. She is playful and he is trying to read.


_A/N: The Hawke character that has been used to write that one-shot is not my own. She belongs to Gabulinka, a worderful DA fandom artist. You can find her page at the adress Gabulinka dot deviantart dot com.  
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_Also, the illustration for the story (which was an inspiration for writing it) can be found in her gallery. It's called "The Last Bottle of Wine". I highly recommend it!  
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_**The story is not the part of Mel's Trilogy and the plot here is not connected with either Neutrality or Objectivity.**_

**Late Night Moments**

"…_It moves my heart for those priests. They also go against my taste; but that is the small matter to me, since I am among men. But I suffer and have suffered with them: prisoners are they to me, and stigmatised ones. He whom they call Saviour put them in fetters; In fetters of false values and fatuous words! Oh, that some one would save them from their Saviour!"_

"What?"

"Oh." Fenris looked up to see the brown eyes watching him with amusement, warm emotion darkening their irises. He blinked few times; the world always seemed so unreal when he returned from the land of words. He let sentences of ancient philosopher's float away, leaving his mind with curious taste of deep wisdom gone; he really should be more critical about what he reads, he though for himself. But, the delight coming from diving deep into exquisite meanings, the exercises of trying to understand and consider thoughts of man who could no longer speak for himself, but the words were still alive and powerful…

"Fenris, if I didn't know better, I would've thought you were actually babbling." Melina watched him with her head tilted and amused expression. He frowned.

"I do _not_ babble."

" 'Save them for their Saviour?' ", she repeated with big grin. Fenris sighed and touched his forehead, watching her, finally aware of the situation. She was leaning against the door of his living room, warm flush on her cheeks, her hair in mess; she was wearing her home robes, her shoulders were bared and white where the smooth fabric slipped off her skin; and in her hand was a bottle of wine from, if he recognized well, his very own cellar. An empty bottle.

_And_ she was wearing no shoes.

"_From _their Saviour, actually", he corrected, the first thing he could think of. Melinda rolled her eyes.

"Okay. It doesn't make any sense anyway."

"Quite the contrary", he said, watching her carefully. "I have already noticed that a written world usually contains more logic than it could be found in certain real one."

Melina laughed – warm, nearly sparkling sound which approached his face with the breeze of alcohol. He sniffed. Very good alcohol, it appeared. Fenris wondered how long time she spent in his cellars instead of coming there for him. But, that wasn't important. Not now. He raised his hand again and turned the page of the book on his lap.

"Do you want me for something, Hawke?", he said inattentively. His mind was already far away, spreading the great wings of words which were finally reachable for him. He watched the first paragraph carefully, examining its length; with some struggle he figured out what the first, giant letter is, then he started to explore the first line. _On. An. Isle_. _On an isle_. Island, probably. The book contained lots of words he had never heard in use; it was hard at the beginning, but then he found the new pleasure in guessing and considering the meaning of new words. He had a dictionary, yes, he had asked the dwarf once to find him some; Varric had not only given him a one book, but his own five huge glossaries of Common, Orlesian and Tevinter._ You might have better use of it than I do, Broody, _he had said and Fenrisremembered that strange feeling of embarrassment coming from the fact that he had been _again _given gifts. But he was wise enough not to have given away the opportunity when it had come. Since then the game of guessing meaning had become a great entertainment he searched in every book; first, he spotted a word. Then, he considered its meaning in the context. When he finished reading a paragraph, he opened the Common glossary and searched for the word, correcting and clearing his ideas; after that he searched in other glossaries the similarity, refreshing and extending his Tevinter and – slowly, very, very slowly – learning Orlesian. It was his very own, personal game which had nothing with the world outside, locked forever underneath the surface of his dusty house; he was sitting there every night, feasting on the great world of words and sentences and lines and paragraphs and pages, seeking thoughts, chasing ideals burning beneath those pieces of dry ink and paper. It was like fighting enemies, overcoming his disability and lack of experience; the shiver of predatory excitement when he thought he had finally understood, he had caught the sophisticated idea, the logical claim blossoming from the leaves and bourgeons of statements…

Now he understood why slaves were banned from reading or _touching _books. If he had been allowed to _think, _he would have ran away from Tevinter on his own, not needing any opportunities helping him gain the awareness of freedom's splendour.

That's when he felt free. That's when he understood that the real _life _has nothing with fighting and killing and feeling that sated satisfaction of being superior. It was all contained in his head. Freedom was there; an ability to think, and understand, and make decisions that he himself considered right.

It was _stunning._

_Isle _wasn't hard at all and he felt a little disappointment from the thought he had already known the Orlesian word: _île. _He read the whole line: _On an isle they once thought they had landed, when the sea tossed them about_.

He felt more than he heard a clash of steel, but he didn't raised his head from the book. As for him, Melinda could ruin his house whenever she wanted. Not that it was too much to ruin left. _When the sea tossed them about, _he repeated in his mind, wandering with his fingers on the delicate facture of old paper. _On an isle they once thought they had landed…_

The air was warm, the candle was melting on the edge of the expensive table, covering it with warm wax he knew he would never clean, he had a book on his lap and Melinda Hawke in the same room, and the thought was unexpectedly comfortable. He dived again in the exquisite depths of letters.

_But behold, _he read, eager to know what came next, but remaining patient in his slow exploration, _it was a slumbering monster!_

He nearly laughed aloud. His lips curved into a sincere smile, not only because of the thought of mooring on the back of sleeping sea monster, but delighted of the surprise the end of sentence had brought.

Something sharp poked him on the shoulder. He didn't react, reading the sentence over and over again, wishing to tell it to the dwarf when he had an opportunity. It was that kind of metaphor storytellers enjoyed. He repeated the whole line once more, feeling satisfied: _On an isle they once thought they had landed, when the sea tossed them about; but behold, it was a slumbering monster!_

The steel poked him once again and once again he didn't make a move, glancing at the page with smug expression. He heard a chuckle and suddenly the book flow out in the air, spreading its delicate pages as the odd kind of wings.

"Hey!", he protested, violently pulled out of the sweet words vision. "No! What do you think you are doing, Hawke?"

"Trying to get your attention, you bore", she replied, sitting on his lap in replacement of the book. He glared at her for a long while.

"And now I am a bore, ah? Shall I remind you about the certain one who made me able to do my bore activities?"

"You're talking too much, elf." She pouted and leant to kiss him in the cheek. He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, letting himself drown in the softest sensation of her lips on his skin. It left a tingling sensation making his muscles relax even more. He sniffed hungrily nearly against his will – and furrowed his brows.

"Here I can see one who had too much of something, but it is clearly not me and not the talking I have in mind."

"Um?" She tilted her head, watching him with a little frown. He chuckled.

"You're drunk."

"Yes I am", she agreed easily with a note of joy. "And you haven't got your stupid clawy gloves anymore to fist me out magically, you know?"

"Oh, woe is me, indeed", he replied, rolling his eyes. Her right hand was covered in his steel gauntlet, embracing her delicate arms in a shield of spiky metal and leather. Her delicate fingers turned into his own sharp claws, the red ribbon tangled on her armoured wrist. He chuckled again, hypnotized by the contrary between soft, warm, exposed body on his lap and the ostentatious visual violence of the gauntlet.

He leaned forward to kiss the soft skin on her elbow, his cheek meeting the steely edges of the gauntlet. She flinched and giggled, a challenge in her eyes.

"Changed your mind about the bore activities?"

"Mm… no", he muttered against her skin. "I am just taking my time considering how I could get my armour back."

"Sneaky little slob." She giggled again, waving his hand with an empty bottle. The smell of wine and sweat was increasing; Fenris with some kind of disappointment let go her arm, straightening again on his chair.

She pouted her lips, watching him. "And it's been starting to get interesting."

"Pick my book first", he ordered. She stuck her tongue at him, but obediently slipped off his lap to pick up the abandoned tome. She passed it to him and groaned loudly when he just opened the book and _started reading again_.

"Fenrissss", she hissed. He grinned involuntarily, still looking at the page. "I hate you so much right now." Before he could react, she snatched the book from his arms and placed it on the table with flourish. She threw herself on his lap and embraced his neck with the arm still grasping a bottle of wine.

He looked at her for a few seconds, confused, and then laughed.

"Melinda. You are really drunk." But his arm embraced his thigh. "Why is that?"

"Isabela", she muttered with a smirk. He sighed, not trying to stop a smile, his irritation weak in the warmth he felt from her body and simply her presence. "You know that your cellars are connected with mine? And then we were on the tables dancing and drinking and it was fun."

"_You _are babbling now", he pointed out with tenderness.

"I know", she agreed. "But I have a reason. I am drunk and you are distracting me with that eyes. Why do you babble?", she asked, suddenly curious.

He smiled. "I told you. I do not."

"Oh, you do. Saviour things and all that creepy stuff I heard coming in." She clenched his armoured fist, observing the gauntlet move, in the way child could watch the new toy. "You do babble. To yourself. It's bad for your mental health, you know?" She chuckled. "Oh, stupid me. Just to mention _mental health_ in your presence sounds weird. You've never cleaned the hall off with corpses. And you do _glow. _If you wanted, you could take an odd job in Darktown as a lantern. Maker knows they could use a lamp switched on by dangerous situations."

"Woman." He shook his head with blissful tiredness. "You say nonsense."

"Funny how we're similar, ey?"

"Actually, about that thing you heard... I was reciting", he explained. "It is my way to consider the thoughts contained in the book. My reading skills are not casual enough yet. I keep learning it by heart and then repeating it aloud to understand every hidden meaning."

"You learn books _by heart"_, she repeated, her eyes gone wide. "Perish the thought of any mental health. You're lost for good. I'll buy you a little duck toy."

"What fo- nevermind", Fenris changed his mind as Melinda looked at him with joy in her eyes. Her grip on the bottle loosened and he heard the loud clash as the empty glass hit the floor. Neither of them turned to look. "I don't want to know what I am supposed to do with a duck toy."

"You see!" She poked him in the chest. "Sane people _love _duck toys. There are thousands of uses for them. You don't know any, you totally have a mental illness. Want a sandwich?"

"Melinda." He half laughed, half groaned. "What was in this wine?"

"Or I could bake cupcakes. I haven't eat cupcakes for so long, you know. Having a home without cupcakes is just like jumping off a cliff not knowing anything about other suicide methods. I mean, you can do it, but you could've chosen better. Or I could read for you."

He tilted his head. "That last one I like. The only one, actually."

"No, really. You aren't going to kiss me because I'm drunk an you're a gentleman, as much as I'd prefer you weren't right now, but. If only thing you need to be happy is to have someone reading you some creepy philosophical stuff aloud so you can consider it, your wish is my command." She raised his feet to catch the book between them. The tome fell out from between her legs and Fenris reached his hand quickly to grasp it.

"Stop ruining my library."

"But it would please you, eh?", she teased. "I mean, not the library destruction. The way I read for you. The way I pronounce every single word. You would like it, wouldn't you, sweetheart?" She slowly removed the book from his hands and opened it randomly, her legs moving suggestively. Fenris blinked.

"Are you really trying to seduce me with my philosophical book?", he asked with his voice amused. She winked at him.

"The only way I can tonight, isn't it? Though if you let me..." He stopped her before her lips reached his, placing his arm firmly on her shoulder. She shrugged with mock helplessness. "You see. Shit, I almost regret drinking so much."

He smirked. "Your loss, woman. Be aware of the consequences next time."

"Mister I Don't Care", she pouted. "Though even if I tortured you, you would never admit that you want it as much as I do now, would you?" He caught her gauntleted arm as it started to move lover on his belly, stopping its motion on his steely grasp.

"Melinda, how much exactly have you drunk?", he asked with his breath slightly quicker. She grinned at him.

"Less than Isabela, sure."

"Bad", he commented shortly. "Maybe the reading is really the best thing you could do right now, except for going to bed. That is, if you still can see the letters properly."

"Don't offend me, elf", she pouted. "I can see the world perfectly clear."

"Ah?" He released her hand and placed the book on her knees, closing it to reveal the cover. "So tell me, what is the title of that book?"

Then was a long silence.

"Shit", she swore under her breath. Fenris laughed.

"Go to bed, you precious drunker."

"Only if you come with me."

Fenris leant to place a quick chaste kiss on her forehead and she chuckled at the sensation. "And what did _it _mean, Mister I Don't Care?"

"It meant", he said gently, throwing her off his lap, "be sober at the morning."

"And _that _was a promise?" Her eyes sparkled as she stood.

"Go to bed."

"Fenrissss..."

"_Go to bed." _He stood up too, offering her an arm when she reeled. "It appears I have to go with you to prevent any further damage on my household, do I?"

"I'll be _delighted_", she purred against his neck as she leant against him, nearly lying on him. He stopped to take a book from his seat. "Fenris, you are not planning to read in bed, are you?".

He nodded with very smug expression. "I am. Since there is nothing else I could do for bedtime entertainment because of certain conscious inability of my... teammate."

She groaned loudly. "You bloody tease."

"I prefer the word _consequent"_, he answered smugly as he led her out of the room, placing another kiss on her forehead. Their steps sounded along the stairs and then vanished in the quiet ancient silence of the tranquil mansion.

The candle was shining yet for a while, dropping warm wax on the floor, and then it faded.

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_A/N: Fenris is reading a book from our world! Can you find out what's a book without using Google? :3_

__Please read and review. You don't have to be logged-in for that; just click the "Review that Chapter" link below. Thank you for your time! If you're willing to spend a little more of it reading my fiction and you liked Melinda, check out the Mel's Trylogy.__


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